


A Season Passed

by Kaleyna



Category: Taboo (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 23:19:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9851333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaleyna/pseuds/Kaleyna
Summary: After the events at the end of episode 6, James Delaney goes off in search of comfort.  But where will he find it?  *SPOILERS* up through the end of episode 6.  Sexual content.





	

**Author's Note:**

> (I changed the ending up a bit and I think it works better)

He had been wandering the streets of London for hours now. For the first time since he had returned to the shores of his birth, James Keziah Delaney felt totally adrift. Within the last 2 days, he had almost strangled his beloved sister amidst a passion that was mixed with nightmare, watched the wreckage of his shattered hopes darken the sky, blown to pieces along with his ship, and lastly this morning awoken, head muddled, next to the lifeless form of the girl, Winter. 

With each plodding step he attempted to convince himself he had not taken the child’s life, that he had not in fact done what every sign clearly showed to be his handiwork. River mud, now dried and caked, covered his face and clothing. He knew he must look mad to those he passed, but he was long past caring. 

‘Am I mad?’ James wondered. ‘Am I truly my mother’s son?’ 

His mind replayed the scene with Brace before the fire. The servant’s words had seared themselves into his brain. 

“Do you know she took you down to the river to drown you? Carried you across the foreshore. A tiny baby in her arms. Innocent and sweet. She waded in. Held you under, until the bubbles stopped! She was deranged, James! That's why your father had her committed to Bedlam.”

In the moment, it had taken some effort to not raise his hand to the man and strike him. 

But now…

‘Is that what I did?’ he thought. ‘Did I hold you under, young Winter, until the bubbles stopped?’

With a start, Delaney realized he now stood before the stately red brick of the Geary home. Not that that should have come as any great surprise. Where else would he go, but to her for comfort? Though he knew that after the events of their last meeting, comfort might not be had for the asking. Still, James could not stop himself from approaching her door. 

After being alerted by a frightened serving girl to her disheveled guest’s presence, the recent widow entered the parlor with no expression on her pale face. When they were young, James used to laugh to himself it seemed his half-sister traveled between ice-cold reserve and manic devotion with few stops in between. Upon seeing the state he was in, the former instantly turned to the latter. 

“What has happened? Are you injured?” Without seeming to take a breath, Zilpha called loudly for the maid to bring some warm water and cloths as she crossed to where he was standing. 

“No.” His was able to keep this short answer quiet and calm. James wanted to say more, but he was not sure he trusted himself to speak of it yet. The ‘no’ was of course a lie. He was injured. Inside, he felt raw and torn and broken. Zilpha peeled off his heavy coat, ignoring the thick flakes of mud falling on her expensive patterned carpet. Delaney distracted himself by looking around the well-appointed room, cataloguing in his head the various figurines displayed along a large oak cabinet against the far wall, pondering if the dark heavy drapes shadowed by the dim light were a deep forest green or a rich navy. Anything to not break down and collapse into her arms, mewling like an infant. Anything, but that. 

The servant had returned with the basin of water. Zilpha led him by the hand to an ornate brocade sofa where they both sat and his beautiful sister began to gently clean his face and hair. By that time, James felt he could speak of what had happened. 

“They blew up my ship’, he started, keeping his voice dull and neutral. 

“Who did?”

“The Company.”

They fell silent again. Zilpha continued her ministrations, running the dampened cloth across the handsome cheek she knew so well. No amount of time or scarring could change her knowledge of his features. She saw them at night in bed, whenever she closed her eyes. 

“I drank to soothe the pain of it. I drank a good deal.”

The dark haired woman did not respond, but continued clearing the mud knowing he had more to say. 

“When I awoke, face down by the edge of the Thames, I found I was not alone. There was a body. The body of a child.”

At this, Zilpha did stop. Her dark eyes sought James’s to read the truth, as if the words had somehow come from someone apart from him. The words were true. She saw that clearly. Her thin frame tensed.

“A young girl by name of Winter. Murdered.” His jaw was now clenched so tightly, she feared it would break off with a loud snap. A tiny muscle by the corner of his right eyelid was twitching under the skin. 

“Did you...” Zilpha began, but then thought better of such a direct approach to the answers she needed. She started again. “And who was this Winter?” 

“The mulatto daughter of a whore. A river rat. Not truly an innocent - few in that world are - but a child nonetheless.”

“Ah.” James was surprised to see his sister’s body relax as she exhaled the word. Even more surprised when she continued, matter of fact, with no sign of feeling. “And did you kill her?”

“I….I am not sure. I was exceedingly drunk. I do remember her coming down the dock to where I was and my speaking with her.” He left out the bit about seeing his dead mother. Delaney’s brow furrowed as he tried to remember more, but to no avail. “The rest is darkness.”

“Well, it is neither here nor there. What concern will one less river rat be to the authorities? And the daughter of a whore.” 

Too stunned to move, James took in the relief evident on his sister’s profile as she continued to do battle with the stubborn dirt that remained on his forehead. He felt he was seeing the real Zilpha, this new grown woman version of Zilpha, for the very first time. Delaney had thought he knew every inch of her body, every meaning to her expressions, every twist to her thoughts, as well as he knew his own. But this woman before him was a stranger. A stranger he was no longer sure he wanted to know. Oblivious to his reaction to her words, his lover continued. 

“And a mulatto at that.” 

James finally mustered the strength to pull away from her hands on his head, a look of disbelief on his face. Zilpha saw his expression and continued quickly. 

“A terrible tragedy when a child dies, of course.” She placed one of her soft white hands over his. “But come now, James. It is not as if this Winter were the daughter of one of our social equals.”

His sister knew nothing of his own unsavory origins, but her callous elitism chilled him to his core. Bile rising in his throat, Delaney rose to his feet and moved over to where his coat had dropped. 

“James, do not be silly. It is not as if she had the prospect of a good life ahead. All that matters is no one will seek you out for her death.”

He stooped to pick up the coat and slipped it on. 

“Was she yours? Is that why you are upset?” 

Without speaking another word, James exited the room and opened the front door.

“James.”

“James!”

He could hear the voice of the only woman he had ever given his heart to follow him as he made his way down the front walkway to the street. 

He did not look back.  
……………………………………………………………………………………

James Delaney stood outside his father’s house, looking up at the faded façade. All the way home he had attempted to reconcile the Zilpha of today with the girl he grew up with here and who he had believed he would love until his last breath. It had only been thoughts of returning to her that kept him alive all those years in Africa. It had been her face that had him fight to stay above the waves after the shipwreck. Her voice that took away the pain as he was held down and a bird design deeply carved into the skin on his back. Her body that helped him climax when he needed to turn to lesser vessels upon which to slake his physical desires. He had even firmly pushed down any thoughts of his lovely step-mother. His heart was no longer his to give. Or so he thought until today. 

But none of these troubling contemplations blinded him to the looks of those he passed as he neared the waterfront. They were by turns filled with deep anger and trembling fear. Winter’s body must have been discovered and the fingers of the district’s denizens now all pointed firmly at him. The fact he had headed off in a daze, leaving his hat lying there in the mud didn’t help his case. With a slight sigh, James headed towards the front door. He wondered if the current inhabitants of his home had also heard the news. 

He entered with his usual amount of noise. No use putting things off by slinking in and hoping to go unnoticed. 

“Brace!” Delaney shouted for his manservant as he threw his coat onto the floor and moved to warm his hands by the fire in the parlor. “Brace!”

“He has gone out to the market.” Lorna’s soft voice made James jump slightly. He had not heard her approach. The soft voice continued. 

“Was it you?”

The voice didn’t accuse. It wasn’t angry. That he could have handled. Instead, it was deep sorrow mixed with an eternal hope. 

He steeled himself as he turned to face her. The actress stood in the doorway, her eyes swollen and as red as the ginger ringlets that framed her face. James loved those curls. When they would sit at night before the fire, he would steal glances at the light from the flames dancing across them when he knew she would not see. James had worked very hard to not let Lorna know he felt the attraction as she did. His heart belonged…had belonged…to Zilpha and he would not mislead the captivating redhead to believe otherwise. 

“That poor child. It was not you. It could not have been you.” Lorna moved deeper into the room, her usual forced indifference fallen away. “Please, James. Please tell me. I will understand, but I need to know the truth.”

Delaney took a step forward, meaning to move past her and up to his room without another word. But he could not pull his eyes from her gaze. 

“I….I do not know.” Somehow he kept his voice steady and hid all emotion from his face. 

He waited for her anger to rise at his inadequate reply, for the soft voice to fill with venom. Then his legs would move again and he could flee the weight of her kindness. Instead, her heart-shaped face tilted slightly to one side, full of caring and pity and sadness. It was more than James could bear. He felt his legs give way beneath him and he sank to his knees. Only his hand coming to rest on the worn fabric of the sofa stopped him continuing fully down to the ground.  


Lorna was by his side in an instant. She placed herself on the sofa and covered his hand gently with her own, letting him decide what comfort he needed from her. His stoic outer shell destroyed, James placed his head in her lap. When her other hand came up to stroke his hair, the strong hulk of a man began to weep like a child. 

After releasing at least some of his grief, James raised his head and looked at her with eyes now as red as her own. As he sobbed, Lorna had sat in silence, keeping one still hand on his, continuing to gently stroke his head with the other. Now she searched desperately for the right thing to say, the ideal words to heal the broken man kneeling before her. But all she could find was her own selfish desire to feel his perfect lips on hers. As if he could see into her very soul, James’s hand came up to wrap behind her head and he pulled her down until her mouth met his. 

  
................................................................................

Later, Lorna would laugh that she had no memory of how they came to be upstairs, only of their first hungry kiss in the parlor and of what followed in her bedroom. James remembered every second. After his lips had found hers, he had lifted her in his arms and carried her to his mother’s old room. There they somehow denied the urgency of the maddening passion they both felt, instead slowly removing each other’s clothing, marking ownership of the other by placing fervent kisses on each inch of flesh that was revealed. 

That task completed, they both stepped back slightly to appreciate the fruit of their labors. Her hair had come undone and to James she looked like a Venus birthed from the sea. Lorna traced the design of his black tattoos with her finger, a look of fascination on her face. She had of course seen parts of them before. Delaney’s propensity for walking around the house half naked – a habit she heartily approved of - had seen to that. But to see them like this, with him laid bare, was a new experience. Lorna had never wanted a man more. She understood James loved his stunning half-sister, but in this moment, if this moment was all there would be, Lorna was happy. She had long known she was in love with him. Her first time fully giving her heart. Whatever he could offer, she would accept. 

And then it was the petite actress’s turn to fall to her knees. Delaney moaned as her mouth and hand both found his cock. 

Despite the general reputation of those in her profession, Lorna Bow had only lain with two men in her life. Two and a half if you included Delaney Senior. His illness had robbed him of his ability to complete the act, a fact for which Lorna was grateful. She had given only warmth not passion when they shared a bed.

‘How odd,’ she thought abstractly, ‘that I was as a mother to the father and shall be as a wife to the son.’

As an actress, Lorna considered gaining knowledge of the carnal ways between a man and a woman essential to honing her craft. How could she act passion if she had never felt passion? And so she had let her two short-term lovers explore, fondle, experiment, all while letting herself fall just a tiny bit in love with them. Enough to understand the emotion, but not enough to risk her heart. Most importantly, she had let them teach. As a result of their tutelage, she knew well how to please a man. She placed just the head of his penis between her lips, flicking the end slightly with her tongue while she stroked his length with her hand. Lorna heard James’s breath quicken as she worked. She moved her head back a little and blew warmth breath onto the tip, teasing the underneath of his shaft oh so lightly with her nails. Then, with one quick movement she took his substantial length fully into her mouth and moved her hand down to cup his balls. 

“Yes, oh god, yes.” 

With this encouragement from the man she knelt before, Lorna kept up her pace.

When he knew he could stand no more without cumming, James groaned “Wait.” His voice was thick and husky with lust. 

Gathering the young woman once more into his arms, he moved her to the bed. After placing a gentle kiss on her lips, he traveled down to take one of her nipples into his mouth. Lorna gasped with pleasure as James alternated sucking deeply with gentle nibbles. Her hand only had a moment to tangle through his short hair before he continued his journey down the curves of her body. She opened her thighs to him and his tongue skillfully lapped at her clit like a hungry kitten before a bowl of milk. Lorna’s back arched in ecstasy as he added two fingers pushed inside her. Delaney’s need for her only grew with her arousal until he felt he would burst if he could not have her. 

“James, I need you in me. I want you inside me.” Her voice was a heady mix of pleading and command. She did not need to ask him twice. 

Delaney moved up her body once more and the actress’s hand found his cock, guiding him into her wetness. Lorna ran her hands up his arms as he held himself over her. Leaning down, James kissed her neck as her fingernails raked a path down his back. In their current state, there was neither time nor need for a slow buildup of rhythm. James drove into her hard as Lorna’s legs came up to join around his hips. It wasn’t long before they climaxed and lay panting, still joined together. 

After a moment, James moved to get off her, but Lorna’s legs tightened their grip.

“No. Stay.” That she said this in a fair mimicry of his deep, stern voice – or at least as close as her lovely female lilt could do – made him snort with amusement. 

“As the lady wishes.” Delaney lowered his head to kiss her deeply, his tongue dancing with hers.

It was then they heard the door below open and shut loudly. 

“Brace.” Lorna whispered. 

They both froze, looking into each other’s eyes like two naughty children about to be found by nanny with their hands in the biscuit tin. The manservant could be heard moving about, complaining loudly about mad Delaneys, bull-headed actresses and the filthy coat still deposited on the parlor rug. Lorna had to bury her face in James’s chest to stop from laughing. A short time after that, they heard him stomping along the downstairs hall and then the door to his small room off the kitchen slammed shut. He climbed into his narrow bed with a bottle of rum, having no clue the mad Delaney who owned that muddy coat was currently lying between the legs of the bull-headed actress. 

Lorna laid her head back down on the pillow and smiled up at him. James slowly rocked his hips forward and she felt his hardness had returned. Lorna’s left eyebrow shot up, his quick recovery time surprising them both. 

“I believe you inspire me, Miss Bow.”

For once, she did not correct him with “Mrs. Delaney”.  
...............................................................

When they were both sated, he on his back and she on her side next to him, Lorna began to tell James about her life. She told of the smallish village a few hours ride outside of London where she lived as a girl. They were not rich, but there was always food on the table and clothing on their backs. Her father worked as the estate agent for the local lord of the manor. It was at the big house that she first saw a play performed, hiding behind some thick drapes at the back of the room near the door where the servants entered to offer the guests refreshments. After that night, she knew the stage would be her home. Later, she had ‘borrowed’ volumes of Shakespeare and Sophocles smuggled to her from Lord Atherton’s vast library by his second-born son. Lorna omitted that that privileged youth had later been her first lover. 

She demanded no response from him and Delaney just let the soothing music of her voice wash over him as she talked. After a bit she started to sprinkle in a question for him now and again, though nothing concerning the past few days or even what their lovemaking might mean for the future. 

“What was the most beautiful thing you ever saw on your travels?” 

“The strangest animal?”

“The prettiest sound?”

“Most exotic smell?”

“How did it feel to be far out at sea with only water for as far as the eye could see?”

And James answered. At first in his usual manner: sparse words mixed with non-committal grunts. Then slowly more completely, until finally he was painting her beautiful word pictures of the things he had seen, the places he had been, how it had felt. Of course, a woman used to all sorts of admirers of her stage performances and lovely face would be well versed at handling conversation and yet Delaney felt amazement at how skillfully Lorna had led him away from his horrors and back to the happiness of his younger self. To before all had gone wrong. 

They talked for a few hours until the night was firmly in place. Then with no preamble, as she knew none was needed, Lorna leaned over to kiss his stubbled cheek, rested her pretty head on his shoulder and promptly fell asleep. James stared up at the ceiling above the bed. He knew for him no such peace would fill the dark hours ahead until morn. He had not slept but a few hours a night - and fitfully at that - for a very long time. But with his delightful ‘step-mother’ tucked up snug against him, Delaney felt a quiet stillness inside that had eluded him for many years. 

The next thing he knew, James was opening his eyes to a room filled with the first rays of the rising sun. He had slept. No half-aware trance state. No haunting images of distant lands, of his dead mother, of black hands beseeching through the grate on a drowning ship. It seemed Lorna possessed some magic of her own. He kissed the top of her head gently where she lie still sound asleep, burrowed into his side. She was his talisman against the dark. 

He had known Lorna cared for him, but whether that was only because he was a shield from the harsh world outside was always in question. But now he knew it was him she wanted. It was the man himself she desired. The feisty little actress was his. His capacity to confess that he was in fact also hers would have to wait for another day. He knew in time he would tell her he loved her. For now, James was content. He closed his eyes and fell once more to sleep.


End file.
